


Equal and Opposite

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Antagonism, Banter, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Action, reaction, that’s what it had been between the two of them for years, and it seemed today was no different.





	Equal and Opposite

Aranea shook out her legs, waiting for her training session to start. Only the top-scoring first-year students had been selected for the week of intensive training techniques, and she was ready.

When Ulric had heard who she’d drawn, he’d howled with laughter. “He is gonna kick your ass to next week and back again. Oh, Six, I wish I could see this.”

She’d scowled at him. “Do you think that because he kicked _your_ ass?”

Nyx’s laughter had coughed to a halt at that. “Yeah, maybe, I’ll never tell.” He’d raised a beer to her and told her he wanted to pay his solemn respects while he still could. She’d shoved him, and his beer had spilled down her shirt, and then Luche had thrown up on Tredd and they’d had to go home.

She shook her head a little, rolling a shoulder and grinning. She was ready - ready to show Ulric, ready to wipe the floor with this guy. _The Immortal_ , she scoffed internally. No one was immortal. She knew that, better than most.

There he was, waiting on the mat. Just a man. Older, but not middle-aged yet. Close-cropped dark hair, and a determined set to a squared-off jaw. He definitely had size on her; she noted it. Probably reach too. She greeted him with a fierce glare.

A steely blue gaze acknowledged her, but only just. The look was cursory, and it was infuriating.

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Let’s go, old man.” She grinned. He wasn’t that old, but she figured it would bother him.

She was wrong. Damn, the second he swept the practice polearm toward her she was on the retreat, furiously twisting and clacking her own weapon against his in search of a way in, any weak spot. There weren’t any; it was a rapid flurry of attacks that she just barely defended until a leg swept and she was on her back, his weapon to her throat and the press of his chest warm against hers through the thin layers of standard-issue cotton.

She shoved him off, scrambled to her feet, and they went again.

It was then, when she was flinging her weapon back and forth against his, walking him back just a few steps, that she saw it. The barest flicker of surprise and admiration in his eyes. It lasted all of half a second, before he flipped her and she landed heavy on her back, again. She sighed at the ceiling, frustrated and sore, but she was keen to see that flicker again. Ignoring the smart of what would very clearly be bruises tomorrow, she curled back and sprang to her feet in one smooth motion.

“Ready when you are.” She lowered her head in a feral grin and began circling him again.

In a voice that, to Aranea’s annoyance, seemed barely touched with exertion, he said, “Just let me know when you want me to show you what you’re doing wrong.”

That drew a growl and a lunge from Aranea, and they clashed again.

Droplets of sweat shook off her forehead and flicked onto the mat. Aranea pulled breaths in through burning lungs and narrowed her eyes.

“You know, you’re not going to learn anything if you’re this stubborn.”

She ran at him again. And again.

Aranea grudgingly took a break when Cor knocked the wind out of her with the butt of his weapon and she sat down hard. She gasped, sweating, while he tried to deliver some instruction on defensive moves.

She coughed, got up mid-sentence, then crouched, sweaty hair hanging in her eyes.

“Not even going to let me finish, huh? Okay, let's go.” Cor shrugged and dropped easily into position.

She was drenched and red-faced, and her nose tingled from exertion, by the time the hour was up. She gave him the usual bow before leaving the mat, and he just jerked his head at her with a look that might have been a smile if she'd looked close enough.

Aranea banged out the door and felt the cool, damp fabric of her shirt stick to her back as she leaned limply against the wall.

“Damn, what were you guys _doing_ in there?” Tredd waggled his eyebrows and leered at her.

“Things you couldn’t keep up with; fuck you, Furia,” Aranea snapped as she shoved past him to the showers.

Aranea groaned as she soaped her left shoulder. It was positively screaming, and probably would be for a week.

 _Asshole_.

She absolutely did not think about clear blue eyes or the cut of a certain jaw as she limped back to her dorm room.

* * *

Cor stood next to his desk, reading, and Aranea strode in without knocking. She walked past him, breezing by with altogether too much arrogance and carelessness for his taste. Dropping a folder on his desk, she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

“Paperwork is _not_ my strong suit. Got anything that presents an actual challenge?”

Cor didn’t stop reading the page he’d been halfway through when she barged in. He heard her foot tapping and narrowly avoided smirking, making her wait until he was done with that page and the next. He knew it was a bit childish, but he also knew he needed to inject a modicum of control into their interactions, or she’d think she could steamroll him like she had been the rest of the team. Good gods, Ostium seemed downright afraid of her.

“Commodore.”

“Not big on titles; I told you, Aranea’s fine.” She stuck out her hand to grab the report from him, and he noticed a healed but recent and fiery red scar twisting up her forearm.

“Things tough out there, hey Commodore? That looks like it was serious.” Cor winced internally - he hadn’t meant to continue to be so formal, especially given her direct request. He liked direct, and appreciated it, and had meant to reward it - it was just…

He needed the distance. She was brash, and seemed to have this energy humming right beneath the surface of her skin. Skin that he had definitely not noticed, a pale luminous hue crossed with old scars in a lighter shade if you looked close enough. Which, he sternly told himself, he had _not_.

It was downright distracting, was what it was.

So he’d retreated into formality; usually a useful tool, but even that was failing him.

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off as barely worth noticing. “You gonna let me read that, or what?”

He flicked his eyes up to her without moving his head. “Or what.” When she looked at him quizzically, he clarified. “These are draft plans; you’ll get them when they’re -”

She danced forward and snatched the papers out of his hand.

“-final,” he finished. Scowling, he bent down and snatched them back

She stepped close to him, slowly, closing the distance between them with a calculated stare. “Look,” she drew out the word, letting each sound assert itself in the air between them, “I get it. We’re not on the same side.” She paused, the tiniest weakness flickering around her eyes. “Anymore.”

But we’re working together on this. We can’t secure the city for the treaty signing without cooperating. Apparently.” She rolled her eyes and flipped one hand up in annoyance. “So. I’m gonna need to see those ‘draft plans.’ Need to organize my men for the -” She reached to grab at the papers, Cor lifted his arm, and she stopped, closer to him than was at all wise.

His head jerked up, and his heart sank as a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “Why, Marshal, are you blushing?”

“With annoyance, maybe. Aranea, you know the proper protocols, we can talk about this - “

She dragged her gaze up his body, lingering more - much more - than he was comfortable with. Fortunately, he didn’t think his face betrayed him again.

“Sure, Cor. Let’s _talk_.” She sat down again, this time on the edge of his desk, and swung a foot back and forth.

“I’m all ears.” Her head tipped to the side, dangling that insufferable ponytail to graze her shoulder.

He was in trouble.

She knew it.

It was fun, and then she was gone. And then everything went to shit.

* * *

When Monica promised reinforcements, Cor was relieved.

When Libertus promised that it would be someone really useful, experienced, Cor was pleasantly surprised.

When Aranea Highwind leaned against the doorway of his makeshift office, he just laughed and shook his head.

“Nice to see you again. Been a while since I let off some steam.”

Cor nodded from the window where he was standing, looking away from her so she wouldn’t see the hint of a smirk tease at his face. “That was _one time_.”

She moved around his desk and sat in his chair, uninvited. “Doesn’t have to be.” She crossed her legs.

“Hmm.” Cor reached across her to retrieve his phone, intending to turn and leave her to stew in his office. She could wait for him to finish the meeting he had coming up in five minutes.

And he leaned too close.

Too close, to avoid falling into grey-green eyes again, sparkling and snapping at him like they always had. Maybe a few more lines, tired from the long years of darkness, but with the same challenge and grit they’d always held. He was falling, and she knew it.

“You never can let me have the last word, can you, Marshal?” She paused before carefully enunciating the title; it lingered on her lips before dropping the same way silvery hair slid between her fingertips before swinging free.

“Cor is fine.” _It’s always been fine_ , he thought, as he recognized the burn of arousal in his gut, the burn he’d first felt when he’d pinned her defiant, arrogant ass to the mat years ago. The same fire that had flared up before he’d let her get in his pants back in Insomnia. He watched her chest rise and fall a little faster with some satisfaction.

“Hmm, but it’s so informal. Almost familiar.” Her tone was so teasing, so ridiculously sure of herself.

Cor yanked her up and out of his chair and pushed her against the wall, leaning down close enough to see the tiny freckles dusting her cheeks and nose, well-faded now but still there. His roughly calloused fingers spread out across her shoulders. He touched skin that was distinctly smoother than he’d expected, but the feel of it brought up some vivid memories that made him blink and swallow. “Is this familiar enough for you, _Commodore_?” His voice rasped low.

Aranea's eyes widened with excitement, but she didn’t respond - unless you called shoving him back into his own bookshelves with an arm to his throat a response. His body responded to her all on its own, though, drawing a low chuckle and a slow grind from her. Action, reaction, that’s what it had been between the two of them for years, and it seemed today was no different.

“Have you forgotten? Not a commodore anymore, so you can stop using that ridiculous title. In fact, I think it probably makes sense -”

“Are you still talking,” Cor murmured, before covering her mouth with his.

Two steps back, then, and she was bent over his desk. Her hands crept over him, slow and sinuous, teasing lightly at the back of his neck. He shivered, and as she met his tongue with her own, he set her down gently, pinning a knee between her thighs and resting his hands on either side of her shoulders.

“Right here?” She blushed prettily, probably more with arousal than shame - the former Commodore didn’t seem to have much of the latter.

“Not yet. Got a meeting. If you’re still here in twenty minutes….”

She was. 

She did, however, not hesitate to let Cor know that Aranea Highwind didn’t appreciate being kept waiting.

As he closed his eyes and let her show him again, he thought he’d keep her waiting more often if this was how it ended up.

**Author's Note:**

> For Cor Leonis Week 2018, incorporates prompts from Day 1 (Scars) and Day 3 (Training Crownsguard).
> 
> Come talk to me about these characters (or anything else) on [Tumblr](https://stopmopingstarthoping.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Stopmopingstart) \- I love making new friends!


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